


shines with a light that's rare

by mazily



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/pseuds/mazily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'m full of champagne," Mikey says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shines with a light that's rare

**Author's Note:**

> Pete quotes Disney. So do I.

"'m full of champagne," Mikey says. He's windmilling--slow and steady, one clompy boot after another--and he knocks over a bottle of Diet Coke, a teddy bear, two Superman action figures (who, before they fell so unceremoniously to earth, were engaged in what Pete likes to call the Nasty), and a Gameboy.

Pete dives for the Gameboy. Shakes it. It sounds like a maraca, so he tosses it back to the floor. Buries it under one of Gerard's smelly t-shirts and crosses his fingers that Frank doesn't notice it before Pete's safe and sound on his own bus. Luckily everyone's afraid to touch Gerard's laundry, so he should be safe.

Mikey sits down on the floor. Pete slumps down next to him.

"You guys are worse than we are," he says.

Mikey shrugs. "Patrick put a pair of boxers in the mini fridge."

"And I put them on his face while he slept," Pete says, "So he doesn't do that anymore. I don't think."

Mikey rests his head against Pete's. Pete places his hand on Mikey's knee.

"I feel like my blood is champagne," Mikey says. " Pop pop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is."

"That's Alka Seltzer," Pete says. He taps his fingers against Mikey's knee until Mikey reaches over to stop him. Pete grabs Mikey's hand. Tangles his fingers with Mikey's and hangs on for dear life. "Or Pepto. I can't remember."

"Hey," Mikey says.

Pete smiles. "Hey," he says. "Hey, hey, Mikey Way."

Mikey pushes his glasses back up his nose with his spare hand. Grins his crooked non-smile. "Peter Pan," he says. He's doing that killer deadpan thing that Pete likes so much. "We should fly to Neverland and fight with Captain Hook."

"Duel with the Croc with a clock," Pete says. The floor is hard. Covered in dirty laundry. He kicks a soleless shoe, and it hits the wall. "Mr. Crocodile, do you like codfish?"

"Mmm," Mikey says. "Too fishy." He keeps blinking, like he's seeing double or trying to stay awake. Pete can't look away. He thinks maybe he should want to, but he really doesn't.

*

Pete doesn't remember sleeping, doesn't remember falling asleep--it's been so long that he was starting to think he'd completely forgotten how--but he's definitely waking up. He wipes the gunk from his eyes. Stretches. Covers his mouth when he yawns and wrinkles his nose at the smell of his own morning breath.

"Toothbrush," he says. No one answers.

He can feel Mikey pressed up against him, warm and bony. He's snoring, and his breath tickles the back of Pete's neck. Pete wiggles. Mikey snorts. Pete wiggles again, tries to work the kinks out of his back.

His Sidekick vibrates in his back pocket, and Mikey moans. Thrusts his hips against Pete's ass a couple of times before wrapping his arm around Pete's waist. His glasses are cold against Pete's neck.

"Mikey?" Pete says.

He isn't sure what Mikey means to say in response, but it sounds like "garflufflehead."

"Not English," Pete says. He slaps his hand in Mikey's general direction.

"Fluffernutter," Mikey says.

"Croque-monsieur," Pete says. "Cocoa Puffs."

Mikey sniffs. Rubs his nose against Pete's neck, a weirdo Eskimo kiss. "Not awake," he says. He kisses behind Pete's ear--a real kiss, even, with a little bit of tongue--and adds, "Still sleeping. Shh."

Pete looks around the bus. They're on the floor, so everything looks giant. And messy. There's a pizza box a few feet away, and Pete stretches his arm as far as he can to pull it over. There's one slice inside. Pete sniffs it, checks the bottom for mold, and when it passes both tests he takes a big bite. It tastes a little funky, but not too bad.

"Hey," he says, "Anyone awake?"

Mikey slides his hand up under Pete's t-shirt. "No one here but us mice," he says.

"Chickens," Pete says.

"Robots," Mikey says. His hand warms up quickly, and Pete rolls over to face him.

"Robots," he says, considering, "I like that. Nobody here but us robots it is." He kisses Mikey on the cheek, a big obnoxious smack of the lips. He licks from Mikey's cheek over to his nose.

"Pizza breath," Mikey says.

"You love it," Pete says, and this time he kisses Mikey for real. For keeps. "Mikey Mikey Way," he says, or tries to, as Mikey's slides one of his many Octopus hands down to Pete's ass. He's busy trying to pull Pete's shirt off with his other one. Pete would help, but he's too busy with the kissing.

Mikey's a great kisser. Which is something Pete totally didn't expect heading into this tour.

Of course, Pete didn't expect a lot of things that have happened on Warped, but Mikey is definitely the most amazing surprise of all. He's all long limbs and messy hair and, god, those lips. He's got that laugh and his not-smile and he's knock-kneed and dorky and perfect.

Pete pulls back, so he can yank his shirt up and over his head. Mikey takes off his t-shirt, and his glasses come off with it. Pete laughs. Picks up Mikey's glasses for him and tries to place them back on Mikey's face; when he almost pokes Mikey's eye out, though, Mikey grabs them and puts them on himself.

Pete leans back in, and he smiles against Mikey's mouth. He can--and will--spend hours just kissing Mikey Way.

And if sometimes Mikey's hands stray, down below the waist, well. That's cool. That's fine, it turns out, better than Pete expected. He doesn't even flinch anymore when he feels Mikey getting hard against his thigh (or his stomach, whatever, because Mikey's not a giant but he's taller than Pete).

It's worth it to kiss Mikey. To listen to the sounds Mikey makes. Plus, he's only human. It's not like he doesn't get hard; it's not like his pulse doesn't speed up and make his heart feel eight sizes too small. He's just a little wary. Cautious.

"Pete," Mikey says, and Pete looks up at him. "You're doing it again."

"Huh?" Pete says, "No'm not." He leans back in, presses his mouth to Mikey's.

Mikey kisses back for a second, two, before pulling away. He tilts his head. "Okay," he says, and he reaches down to unbuckle his belt. Pete stares steadfastly ahead for a couple of seconds. He looks down, concentrates on unzipping his own jeans and pulling them down to his thighs. When he looks back up at Mikey, Mikey's actually smiling.

"Mikey Way," Pete says, "Is that an actual smile?"

Mikey cuffs him upside the head. "Shut up," he says.

Pete grins. "Make me," he says, and he finishes wriggling out of his jeans to the sound of Mikey's laughter.

*

Pete crawls into Mikey's bunk. Pulls on one of Mikey's hoodies and buries himself in his Star Wars sleeping bag. Mikey climbs in behind him, his stabbing Pete's back. The entire universe smells like Mikey: like beer, smoke, Jack, sweat, coffee, tequila, sour, sweet, magically delicious. The eternal sparks keep buzzing under Pete's skin, behind his eyelids; words trying to force their way out throw his pores in spit-starts.

He closes his eyes. He listens to Mikey sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for no tags. Pete/Mikey, champagne.


End file.
